


Well, if it isn't Bonnie and Clyde?

by scream_wasnt_scary



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scream_wasnt_scary/pseuds/scream_wasnt_scary
Summary: It's the night of the end of the world. Max and Chloe search for Nathan, and what do you know? Max gets a strange voice mail from Prescott. On the contrary, is Chloe's malicious text from the same boy.Chloe's adamant about saving Rachel's body from the disposal, but Max isn't convinced that's exactly what's going on.Why would Nathan send that voice mail otherwise?Something she has to find out.





	Well, if it isn't Bonnie and Clyde?

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. I'm going to write it. Honestly thanks to everyone that reviewed or left kudos. They're the reason I'm spending any time at all on this.  
> This is the revised Ch.1.  
> That brief Ch.2 I'd posted (for those of you that actually read it) was absolute shit. It was headed in a different, open-ended direction. Bluntly: forget about it. I've got a planned fic for you.
> 
> Also, I recommend you re-read the first chapter if you haven't since its update. 
> 
> Aside from that  
> Constructive criticism is nice  
> I'm open to suggestions  
> And I hope you all enjoy

Max bolted into the room, squeezing the gun in hand for assurance. But nothing. Empty, save of course the red jacket thrown atop the couch carelessly. Max took tentative steps to it, and soon noticed the shirt and shoes that accompanied. All of it Nathans. Another step forward and Max almost dropped the gun.

  
There he was. He hadn't lied in his message after all. Reassuring for a second, but he was immobile, and under the control Jefferson applied to the rest of his subjects. Nathan was shirtless, barefooted, and only wearing black jeans. His body was sprawled out on the floor, his flesh lined with sweat and body twitched rigidly as if he were trying to move. A moan, then a grunt, and Nathans' head rocked suddenly, his eyes searching. They locked on Max and flickered back and forth to the distance behind her.

"Max!" A loud voice and a sharp tinge in her neck. Strong arms wrapped around her as her knees buckled, and the gun fell from her fingers, "I wasn't expecting to see you here... and where's Chloe, hmm?" He smiled. He reframed his composure almost immediately after and sighed "Ah well, you do have a hard time taking the shot," Jefferson smiled over her, supporting her head as her vision blurred "But, this gives us an opportunity, doesn't it?"  
He didn't look her in the eye as he spoke, only held her head up with one hand and probed her face with the next "Nathan? What do you think?" he asked jovially, before Max lost her grip, regrettably, once again.  
…  
Des Yeux qui font baisser les miens  
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche  
Voilà le portrait sans retouches  
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Max shivered herself awake, but there was a steady warmth beside her.  
Eyes. Open. Open motherfuckers. Eventually, they did, but not as quickly as Max had hoped. Body, on her back, hands, on her lap, both bound tightly in a black cloth. Shockingly, she was dressed in the same attire as Nathan now. No shoes, no shirt, but thick belted black pants. Fortunately for her Jefferson had the courtesy to not leave her as bare-chested as her pal over here. Black bra. Not hers, but there wasn't a way it could make her feel any worse than she did now.

She ultimately ignored it and glanced about the room best she could manage, straining to just barely lift her head. Jefferson was nowhere to be seen. She dropped her head in relief, taking in Nathans arm supporting her neck. He was limp on his side, chest facing Max, and his wrists tied, arms around her. One of his legs was on top of hers but for the life of her, she couldn't move it. Too drugged out of her mind.

Sick. It was probably some pose Mark left them in. She shivered again and was startled when it caused Nathan to stir. She didn't move, it was Nathan whose body twitched with slight convulsions.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose

With nothing to do, Max shut her eyes and tried to adjust the crook of her neck against Nathans' arm, but this changed his breathing, and his light shivers became more intense. Soon, Nathans entire leg moved off, and away from hers. She used all her energy then to loll her head in his direction. It wasn't entirely shocking to see him awake either, looking at her through foggy eyes.

He looked away quickly, loose tears rolled down his cheeks. His face distorted trying to form words at amidst upcoming convulsions "Sorry- so sorr…"  
"I got your message…" Max whispered, feigning sweetly, unsure if Nathan could hear her. She was fucking angry with him. She wouldn't be tied up in this basement, he wouldn't be tied up in this basement- or any girl before them for the matter- if it weren't for his stupidy. Why the fuck would he do this? Kind of ironic for him then. She tried to be mad at him that moment, but here he was, shivering, puffy-eyed, looking like Kate the day she jumped off that roof.

Turns out he had heard her. Replying with a nauseated groan, trying hopelessly to turn his body away. This jolted his arms and rocked Max's head. Resulted in a sharp pain to her neck, making her gasp sharply. Nathan soon gave up and lay limp panting at the effort.

Il me dit des mots d'amour  
Des mots de tous les jours  
Et ça me fait quelque chose

Minutes passed, and Nathans breathing eventually evened.

"Sorry…. So... " he began again, but Max had enough, turning herself on her side, not getting carried away with the control she exerted over her body.  
Facing him once again, Max silenced him with a single 'fuck off'. His eyebrows twitched slightly but he kept his mouth shut. They held their gaze, Nathan frankly, mildly shocked. Max learned then that Nathan Prescott was, in fact, a human.

A lot of things ran through her head about what to expect from Nathan when she got there. Turns out he didn't cry wolf, as Chloe had said over again about the voicemail. An attempt to stop Max from going after the enemy. The enemy. That was laughable now. Realizing the intensity on the gaze a little late, she looked up, aways.

"Mark-" she spat.

"Gone." Nathan closed his eyes and shook his head miserably "gone, gone…" he mumbled.

"Bastard…" Max choked "... he'll die"

Nathan considered that.

"-nn..… go-"

"Yea, I know." Max interrupted flatly.

"No." Nathan insisted, "nn… gun,"

Max looked at him again. "Oh"

Nathan's eyes rolled back and he cleared his throat, "Third shelf… behind stereo,"

Max instantly rolled her head about, searching for the selves he was insisting. His words continued, slow and gravely "Black, next to- to tripods…. Behind me,"

She looked past him and over the crook of his neck. There. On the wall behind him, were a handful of tripods, stacked against the wall, and a blocky, black bookshelf. The third shelf up, a fat stereo humming in the room.

Il est entré dans mon cœur  
Une part de bonheur  
Dont je connais la cause

Suddenly firm footsteps were approaching, and Jefferson was peering over them, a camera slung about his neck. He tsked and knelt to the two "I thought I heard mumbles…"

Max slipped her lids shut instantly and willed her body limp. She was awake. Enough to cling to consciousness. And turn her body.  
Max evened her breathing and prayed she appeared unconscious, Soon enough, she would get her hands on that gun... but that would become impossible if Jefferson happened to inject her, so for now, she'd bide her time an play the rag doll.  
...  
Nathan, on the other hand, mumbled unintelligibly and tried to move his legs, doing his best to appear mobile. He knew as well as Max that she was the only chance they had. If anything, the stab of the needle had a pang of justice for Nathan.

As he slipped from consciousness, he thought then of how he found himself here in the first place...

Stupidly, he came back to the darkroom, thinking Mark wouldn't show up so soon. To flee had been easier hours ago, but pity was a very distracting thing, and instead of thinking he'd been wallowing. He never wanted to see that dungeon again but, Mark would have too much dirt on Nathan if he didn't go back and clean the place out. Regardless, he had to.

But he thought of Kate. And Rachel.

On a whim, he stormed to the cupboard with the red binders. He'd pulled out Rachel's binder and tore out every last page. And then Kate. Every last picture he ripped from its bindings into shreds. They were dumped in a metal trash bin, he doused them in a flammable developing chemical and lit.

Rachels ashes. But it wasn't enough. He went back to the cupboard and began to throw all the filled binders on the floor around him. Every one of them would be destroyed, he vowed silently. This shit… it's been going on for too long. And he's condoned it.

Feeling sick, he continued smashing the binders on the floor before him until the cupboard was empty. Pages scattered across the floor... but there were still plenty of empty binders left. The empty ones. All in the order of appearance the girls would make.

Victoria Chase.

His best friend, next in line. He buckled to the floor, retching then, and couldn't stop, spluttering on saliva and tears. He smashed his fist on the floor at all the names. Through sobs came a manic laugh. Fuck had he been putting this off for a long time. Probably didn't help that he was high all the time.  
He was right now, he was when Mark decided to abduct Vitoria… and even when Rachel was dying. He'd been chilling on the couch, while Jefferson worked, after popping some pills and smoking a blunt. Of course.

Mark condones it, your drug problem, you fucking idiot. He wanted you compliant. That psychopath was sober 100% of the time, and being so gave him an edge.

He bolted upright and ran his hands across his face, wiping away the fluids and groaning into his palms. He breathed in heavily and turned back to the remaining binders. Next to Victorias, was Max Caulfield.

That girl knew shit. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd found out about Mark and this place at some point this week, considering how nosey. Nah, she knew. That comment about 'running away to Jefferson' earlier made it clear enough, though at the time he was too baked to see through that.

So. Jefferson would photograph Victoria, and probably Caulfeild after he'd disposed of Nathan.

He was going to die. At the hands of Mark nonetheless… just another teenager added to the list. Nathan felt he might puke again. Mark would come for him, and he knew he wouldn't be ready when he did. His mind raced with ways to escape as he pulled his hair.

Family, what family? Kristine was on the other side of the world, couldn't help him. And he didn't have friends so much as they were clients. Peers. Fuck. He still had to warn Victoria… but he had to get the fuck out of Arcadia. He needed money… his things, but fuck. Was it safe to go back to his dorm? He could always just go directly to his home, take some valuables, steal a safe… no, break into it? Fuck no.

He suddenly felt unsafe. He was hanging around in this basement for a while now.

Should he just leave? Try to sell what drugs he had and start somewhere else? Just drive out of Arcadia and never look back? He could use his real identity but… would Jefferson find him? He couldn't turn Mark in, Nathan was in too deep himself. He'd have to go very far, but then again Jefferson and his friends moved around the country very frequently. Fuck.

Nathan would just have to keep running, and running… and for that, he'd need his essentials. In his dorm. Passport, meds, dope, health records, social security, even his wallet. Nathan might as well leave the country, fly to Canada-

His racing mind halted then. What the fuck was he thinking? Thinking he should run from a criminal past for the rest of his life? Waste it in fear? In Canada? Never to see this place or the people here, ever again?

It occurred to him then too, about Kristine… if Nathan ran... Jefferson knows she's the only family he cares about. Kristine in the darkroom was probably the most terrifying thing he thought he'd come up with in a long time.

Something became blatantly obvious to him then. He pulled his hair so hard tears formed in his eyes. He could always- just-

"For fuck's sake!" Nathan cried out into the air, unable to finish his thought. He hung his head to the floor and rubbed his eyes. This was his fault.  
He sighed, and slowly, reached for the gun tucked under his jacket. Pulling it out, he turned it over in his hands and toyed with the weight. Nathan clicked off the safety, thinking, about how Mark could die, just as easily as him.

Nathan swallowed and closed his eyes.

After a moment, he set the gun lightly down on the glass desk near him, sighing. He would die a lot easier then Jefferson.  
Jefferson was no better, but Nathan knew he couldn't kill him. Months ago the man was his friend.

Nathan tried to envision himself, pointing the gun at Mark… but he could never pull the trigger. He knew- knew that Jefferson would get the better of him. He'd jump him, or coax him into changing his mind.

Jefferson had plans, even if he was an asshole, and Nathan was directionless. He wasn't even sure anymore if he wanted to kill him, or was just overly mental from his lingering high. It frightened him how appealing the idea of safety was, how thirsty it made him, but at a cost. He didn't need to feel any emptier… say he did kill Mark... he would be absolutely alone in it. And Marks friends wouldn't be too happy with him either. Would he have to run from them, too?

Either way, he put the gun down and slid it away from himself. More trouble than it's worth.

He walked slowly to the stereo, turning it up softly so old-timey music hummed softly in the background. Making his way out to the couch he flopped down, pulling out his phone and beginning to text Victoria;

N; stay the fuck away from Jefferson tonight… he's not who you think he is. Seriously. Watch your back.

Sent. It only took a second before,

V; Nathan wtf, where are you? wtf is this? Caulfeild is looking for your sorry ass

God Damn Caulfeild. Thinking on his feet,

N; serious psycho drug addict. He's been blackmailing me to sell them to him for a while. Caulfeild might know.

V; o shit...  
V; who the fuck are you, we were just talking this morning  
V; you had a lot of opportunities to let me know asshole

N; its a touchy fucking subject V  
N; it wasn't practical to bring it up over a breakfast conversation about kate's suicide

There was a pause.

V; so are we gonna fucking talk about it.

It was Nathans turn to pause.

N; yea V don't sweat. Tomorrow, after Two Whales, ok? I've got to deal w/ it. Do you have a nosey bitch's number?

V; You know, I can't tell whether you're telling the truth or straight-up lying anymore

Nathan threw his head back. Yea he had a problem here.

Another minute and the seven digits showed up on his screen. Not wanting to fuck up his relationship with Victoria anymore tonight, he scrolled to his keypad and punched in the area code and following numbers. A few solid rings and then voicemail.

"At the tone, please record your message- beeeep!"

"Max, it's… it's Nathan."

"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or… didn't want to hurt anybody. Everybody used me. Mr. Jefferson is coming for me now. All this shit..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to get worked up. He shouldn't even be blabbing anything personal anyhow.  
"... it'll be over soon. Watch out. He's coming for you next." He shut his eyes and let his head fall back on the couch, finishing with a 'sorry' before hanging up.

Soon, in the stillness of the room, his pulse lessened. He wouldn't see Victoria tomorrow. He wasn't going anywhere.

As he'd expected, after a blurred amount of time, there was a loud tone, before the heavy metal entrance swung open. The sharp clip clap of footsteps grew louder, and closer until they stopped altogether. Nathan shut his eyes and drew a deep breath, finding himself unable to swallow.

"I was looking for you." The unease in his voice was hard to conceal.

"I had a feeling…"

"Don't be smart you little shit!" Jefferson stomped his way to face Nathan. He glowered over Nate, looking at every inch of him. In return Nathan stood up straight, and brushed the dust from his coat unto Jefferson, glowering the whole time.

"Cute" Jefferson snatched Nathan's phone off the coffee table, waving it in his face, "I've been trying to contact you all day." As soon as he said it, he threw the phone to the nearest wall and the screen shattered. It then lit up with notifications.

Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets "Saves me the trouble of throwing it away. Hasn't been working all day," he walked over casually to the remains and gestured to them, "this glass won't be easy to clean up Mark, maybe you should watch your temper,"

At this, Jefferson ran at Nathan and shoved him back, once, twice, until he was against the wall "Coming from you? Don't make me laugh Nathan. Where have you been all day, hm?"

Frankly, Nathan had gone to the cliffs to contemplate shit. And Caulfield, briefly, after he almost got his ass beat by Graham. Mostly though he drank off and on while making low-ball sales and catching up on his booking.

"Get the fuck off me-"

"You don't leave me in the dark! We have a business agreement, but lately, it feels like I'm your fucking babysitter, Nate. So why do you insist on fucking with the arrangement?!"

"Yeah, I-"

"You need to report to me. You don't leave me in the fucking dark."

"Yes! I said yes!" Nathan shoved Mark back a step roughly, and eyed him while he brushed off his jacket "Whatever you say 'Mark'," flatly this time, "you're the boss, right?"

Jefferson frowned at Nathan, "You know, there's just something about your tone that doesn't have me convinced, 'Nate'."

Suddenly, Mark rushed in, trapping Nathan's shoulders flatly against the cement wall. "I just get the feeling anymore, that your heart, is in this,". Then came a stab of pain in his abdomen. Jefferson took a few swift steps back and watched Nathan expectantly.

Fuck.

He lost control of his arms first, before his left leg gave out, toppling him to the floor. His flesh buzzed all over. It drove him crazy, writhing on the floor for a few seconds before his body became uncontrollable to him, save his head, which he tried furiously to keep facing upwards while he lay on his back. It didn't last long.

Mark strutted casually to the limp teenager. He pressed the toe of his boot against Nate's left temple and knelt his weight down.

"Don't worry, Natey," Jefferson loomed over, talking slowly, holding Nathans head in place with his shoe so he could maintain a gaze "You and I both know you've been slipping… quite some time, really... tsk, but what the heck? Let's you and I do one last photoshoot? For old times sake." No hint of a question in his voice, only mockery, as he dragged Nathan by his arms across the floor.

Nathan twitched his legs and body frantically in response. It was a lame attempt, but it was enough to annoy Jefferson into ripping off Nates coat by the sleeves and letting him fall back to the floor. Jefferson tossed Nathans jacket atop the couch, then his shirt, socks, and shoes, until he was only in his jeans.

Nathan meanwhile, lost all feeling, even his own thoughts were hardly intelligible to him… but with eyes half-open, he lay fully awake, as Jefferson finished dragging him the rest of the way.

Nathan sprawled out on the white spread, watching Mark prepare the printer and his favorite camera, just wishing he'd fall unconscious already.  
…  
Time lost relevance, all Nathan was thinking about was every last girl he's photographed this sick way himself. He deserved this. Now his arms and ankles were bound, and he was stretched out on his back. Jefferson mumbled to himself as he took the pictures, while Nathan looked at the opening of the entrance, wondering what it'd be like to walk out of it.

The tone. The swing of the heavy metal.

Nathan thought the noise was a hallucination, but Jefferson had clearly heard it too, whipping his head around and jumping back from what he was doing. Quickly, with the camera still draped around his neck, Jefferson ran to hide inside a large, free-standing closet, shutting the door softly so the hinges wouldn't sound. Nathan knew very well that's where they'd kept the ketamine.

He tried to roll his head, to move anything. Max Caulfield stepped around the corner.  
...  
Max sang along in her thoughts to the slow music playing from the stereo.

C'est Lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie  
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

Nathan had gone completely limp, his eyes rolling back and breathing slowing at the fresh injection. Max didn't think or feel at all, just listened to the music.

Et dès que je l'aperçois  
Alors je sens en moi  
Mon cœur qui bat

Jefferson sighed, satisfied, and moved slowly but steadily, continuing his work. Max felt his arms beginning to move her and she did everything in her power to not tense at his grasp, telling herself it was the music that moved her.

Des nuits d'amour à plus finir  
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place  
Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent  
Heureux, heureux à en mourir

Jefferson sat her against the wall, sitting her upright and lifting her knees to her chest. Once she posed to his satisfaction, he went about seating Nathan beside her. Mark grunted from the effort, accidentally stepping on Nathans wrist and thumb and nearly tripping himself.

In a single tug, he pushed Nate up against the wall. He slumped towards Max and nearly fell on her lap before Jefferson caught him quickly, straightened him, and set his forehead gently against Max's shoulder.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
Il me parle tout bas  
Je vois la vie en rose

Mark stepped back to inspect his work, huffed, satisfied. He turned on his heels sharply and they clicked loudly on the floor, making way to the other end of the room. Max dared to open an eyelid just a slit, stilling her shaking fingers. Mark sighed disappointedly, kneeling over a large papered mess of the red binders. He shook his head and slowly set about picking up the papers at random, stacking them neatly and shaking his head.

Il me dit des mots d'amour  
Des mots de tous les jours  
Et ça me fait quelque chose

Max's entire body was shivering, her fingers twitching uncontrollably. Now! Everything in her was screaming- Now! Right now! He heart was fleeting, she felt... no, she was sure if she tried hard enough.

She tested putting pressure on the pads of her feet. She could stand it. Now! Right now! Mark now sat cross-legged on the floor, making himself comfortable and beginning to organize the scattered photos.

Il est entré dans mon cœur  
Une part de bonheur  
Dont je connais la cause

Quiet and quick, if not a little sloppy, she used Nathans shoulder and the wall to push off of, supporting herself to stand. Once she stood on two feet, she settled that she could bear it, before she tried to pursue. She smiled briefly and taking her hand off the wall. She took a step over Nathans outstretched legs, keeping her eyes on Jefferson.

C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie  
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

She was there. Right there. She could see the handle of the gun poking out from behind the stereo.

There were cords at her feet, one happening to graze over her foot. She stumbled forward and grabbed the shelf quickly to stabilize herself. It shook the shelf and cords. It wasn't much noise at all really… but it was enough. Jefferson whipped his head back.

Et dès que je t'aperçois

He bolts upright as Max snatched the handgun.

Alors je sens dans moi

She points it and steadies herself, Jefferson starts to run at her.

Mon cœur qui bat

It only makes him a bigger target. She pulls the trigger before he's even close.

La la, la la, la la  
La la, la la, ah la  
La la la la

He fell like a tree. Instantly. And that was that.

Max only felt relief and dared sense of satisfaction. His blood pooled on the floor and soaked into her clothes and bag that were piled against the wall. She dropped the gun and looked back to Nathan, who had fallen to the floor since she'd last seen him. He actually looked pretty uncomfortable.

She staggered over to his form and dropped on her knees, turning him over on his side and fixing the position of his arms and legs, so he would lay normally. She almost collapsed at the effort but settled for resting back against the wall once again, near Nathan.

Resting her head against it, for just a moment, ended up lulling her to sleep.  
…  
Max woke to the stereo. Not the classics this time. It was rock n' roll.

She bolted upright. Nathan. He was gone from the vast white photo canvas. Now it was thick spreads of clear plastic on top of the canvas. On top of that, Jeffersons pale body and little pools of his blood forming atop the plastic sheets. Jefferson had been stripped of his shoes, glasses, watch, his pockets emptied and inside out. He was also without his dress coat and his white undershirt was soaked red from the wound in his stomach.

"Hey,"

It was low and gravely.

Max whipped her head around, and there was Nathan, sitting on the glass desk and smoking a cigarette. He looked at her blankly, through bagged, puffy eyes, his lips so dry they cracked with blood. On his lap, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, smears of blood on them. Beneath him on the floor, near Mark's initial blood-pool, was a soapy scrub bucket, rolls of paper towels, rags, bristled brushes, an empty trash bag, and a liter or so of bleach.

He'd barely made a dent in it.

Max looked away and laid back, looking around the room, realizing for the first time she'd been moved to the couch, Nathans red jacket draped over her. There were several boxes and bags about the room, and Max noticed that Nathan had begun to clear out some of the shelves and drawers, as they lay opened and emptied. The floor had been cleared of all the red binders and their contents.

Nathan took a long drag and leaned back, flicking it "I woke up maybe an hour ago. It looks like you made quick work of him." he nodded at the corpse.  
Max looked away and around the room once again, "So what's this, disposing of the evidence?"

She looked back to see him finish a drag. He'd climbed back into his own clothes already, she, on the other hand, was still in Jefferson's attire, only draped by Nates jacket. He got up off the table and walked slowly to her.

"I wanted to talk to you about that actually," he finished making his way and stood a step back from her, behind the couch "A person's body only lasts so long after they've croaked, and I'm sure you want to go to prison as much as I do."

She didn't react to his sarcasm, she only glanced at Jefferson and allowed her head to fall into her palms to groan. Nathan stood unmoving, not being able to look away from her as he hung on her decision.

But she'd killed the bastard herself, so it wasn't all that surprising when she gave him the look he needed and demanded a cigarette from him.  
…  
First, they scrubbed the floor, then emptied the dresser the blood had seeped to. After it was empty they tipped it on its side and cleared it of all blood from its edges and underside.

Next, organizing. This bin was disguisable garbage, that bin was things that would be pawned, the general valuables. All of Mark's personal possessions. There was a pile of things that would have to be individually destroyed. The computer and its hard drive, Jefferson's camera. Nathan pulled out screwdrivers and a hammer so Max could take the things apart and smash the individual pieces.

As she swept up, Nathan took apart every needle, metal tips here, plastic ends in a mixed garbage bag. All the ketamine, chloroform, were discarded of their labels. He poured all the drugs down the sink after he mixed it with development fluid, then smashed each glass bottle and had Max sweep it up, while he went to round up everything that was linked to him personally from this room.

Spare clothes, car keys, notes, letters, Jeffersons phone, the remnants of his own, and anything that had the Prescott name on it. Everything that appeared to be useless was put in a box and stacked in a corner. All of the cords laying across the floor were wiped clean, wrapped up, put in their own box, and all photography equipment was organized and stacked against the wall. Soon every single piece of furniture was cleared, the contents sorted and left against the walls to collect dust.

There was a pile of garbage bags Nate would sneak into a county dump himself, and another two boxes, filled with documents and Max's bloodied clothes and satchel, and Marks personal and flammable possessions. They planned to take out into the forest to burn.

She's salvaged what she could from her bag and lined it in the pockets of the red jacket she now wore.

Max pushed the couch, ottoman, and glass desk in a corner and set about clearing the walls of every photo, putting the pictures in the burn box, and the frames on the ottoman.

Clear. It looked like someone was just moving in. Or out. Save of course the body spread out on the canvas.

"Still have those screwdrivers?" Nathan asked as he ripped off his gloves.

Soon, the two were removing the base-support that held the canvas from the ceiling and setting it gently on the ground. Nathan stepped around to the edge of the canvas and pulled it taut, so Max could cut the canvas away from its support with a box cutter.

She carried the support away to begin dismantling it. Nathan meanwhile started to tuck Jefferson tightly into the plastic sheets, using duct tape to seal it, following the same process with the canvas. The smell was starting to come out though. By this time Max reduced the canvas support to about three large pieces. It would have to do. He chucked his car keys on the desk before her.

"Get my truck and back into the barn, I'll sweep this up and open the doors," She didn't look at him as she snatched them up and ran for the exit. Nate finished sweeping, listening to the hum of his truck's engine and feeling more restless with each passing moment. Finished, he added the broom to the trash pile, then stepped briskly through the developing area of the bunker and up the staircase into the barn, smiling to himself as he resurfaced.

For how awful, every single second of this was... He'd never felt happier, as when he faced the sky again. The sun, still in the early hours from rising, cast a greenish glow in the lightening sky, and on the darker side of the horizon, the stars still shone in the early hours. The wind carried the smell of honey, and the caw of a crow was the sweetest song he thought he'd ever heard.  
…  
Concealed behind the closed doors of the barn, the two had worked on filling Nathans trunk with everything they intended to dispose of from the darkroom. Including Mark. They saved him for last. When finished, the trunk was slammed and a green tarp from the barn was thrown over it all, secured with rope. Nate grabbing two shovels from the barn after opening the doors wide on his way out. Out the barn and on the road.

Firstly, they drove to a camping site twenty minutes out of Arcadia, finding the most desolate spot they could, and then walking into the forest a hundred meters or so. Max carried a bag of trashed photos, a small jerry can, and the shovels, while Nathan carried the boxes with the majority of the dirt, was. Happening upon a patch of softer ground, the two set to digging silently.

When the pit was sandboxed sized, they tossed the shovels and dumped every last photo, chemical, sheet, and film, and laid it all evenly in the pit. Max poured an even layer of gasoline over the whole of it.

They both looked at it for a moment. Then each other, briefly.

The thick woods around them rustled in the wind.

Nate gently took the jerry from her hand, crouched on the ground and made a small trail of the gas leading out of the pit, and near his own feet. He poured the remaining of the liquid in the small pit and dropped the can in after it, then lighting.

It engulfed in hardly a second, notes and pictures blowing away after becoming ash. Plastic sizzled and snapped, the jerry can becoming unrecognizable, Max's bloodied clothes became a mulchy pile of ash.

After a moment Nathan turned to her and nodded to his jacket she was wearing "Let's burn it,"

"My stuff is the pockets, and my clothes are a pile of ash"

"Alright, I'll burn it after you give it back"

"Isn't it your favorite jacket? Why burn it?"

Nathan shook his head and probed the sheets with a shovel. Everything was evenly burned and unidentifiable before he started shoveling dirt back in.  
It didn't take Max long to snatch the other shovel to help him.  
…  
Next was Jefferson. They drove silently from the campsite back to Arcadia, and towards the cliffs, in the other direction out of town.

Nathan turned onto a gravel road, which soon leads to a small railed parking lot, overlooking the Arcadia cliffs. Nathan rolled to a stop and turned the engine off, Max hopping out of the vehicle before he even parked. She strode over to the railing lining the edge of the cliff, that overlooked the north bay. The south bay was where Arcadia stood, The lighthouse visible a mile or so away on a narrow ridge that separates the two bays. From where she stood, the lighthouse shone in the rising sun.

Max swerved at the sound of Nathan's car door slamming. The two eyed each other before Nate spun on his heels. Max pursed her lips, trailing him to the trunk.

The mound that was previously their teacher, was twisted and slanted from banging around in the back. Another gloomy look was exchanged.  
"Let's get this over with,"

They snatched the ropes, Nathan heads, Max tails, and pulled the bundled body out of the trunk. Max didn't anticipate the weight of him, and the outer ropes slipped from her fingers. Mark's legs slapped loudly against the ground, Nathan shot her an abhorred look.

She put a hand up to stop him before he could say anything and reached down for the ropes. Plucking a handful, she stiffly hoisted the bundle up, balancing it on her knees, then swinging it under an arm. A stumble, steadied, a huff-

"Are you gonna pass out or some shit?" Nathan flared.

"No," Max retorted sharply. The package fell from her arms again.

"For fuck's sake! Stop dropping it!" Nathan pushed her aside and went about picking up Jefferson.

"How about you quit screaming, asshole," Max said cooly.

Nathan shook his head but said nothing more as he prepared to fling the concealed Jefferson over his shoulder. He staggered at the weight but soon walked to a nearby trail that led into the thin brush by the cliff. Max followed from a distance, stepping over roots and looking over her shoulder every so often.

Soon the two reached a flat of rust-colored stone, angled upward from its sheer drop into the ocean, dozens of feet below. Nathan tossed the body on the ground carelessly, near the edge of the drop. He stretched his arms high and welcomed the snaps and pops of his bones.

Max eyed him as he peered over the edge of the sheer cliff, kicked a stone over, watching it disappear, then pinch the bridge of his nose keenly. His arm swung limply to his side and he sighed, shaking his head

"Alright. Help me swing him over the edge,"

They both slowly made their way to an end, slowly lifting the bundle from the ground. When it hung not a foot off the ground, the pair shimmied closer to the edge and began to swing it, back and forth.

One, two, three. High it enough to release.

The parcel swung well past the edge and became a blur as it hurtled back down to the earth. Both Max and Nathan peered over the edge in time to see the blur of white canvas, slap and bounce grotesquely off the rocks below.

"Oooh," Max grimaced.

Nathan let out a long descending whistle.

The bundle took its last glimpse of the surface, sinking into the deep waves. A moment passed and they looked at each other. Max turned swiftly on her heels and headed for the truck.

**Author's Note:**

> So tell me, what did you hate the most about LIS? Don't get me wrong, but
> 
> For me, they did Nathan dirty.  
> They romanticized suffering.  
> Everyone is either a psycho or a pussy or a robot.
> 
> Other than that, they do leave things/ideas open for interpretation from the viewer, and it's a great story to experiment with. Then again that might be why some of its fictions are actually better than the game.


End file.
